by Sandra Heath
Brand wasn’t prepared to tolerate any more stubbornness. Slowly, he slipped a hand into his coat and drew out his pistol, which he cocked and leveled at Francis. “With this undoubtedly unfair move, I’ve put you in check, my friend, so before I lose my temper completely, I suggest you reconsider.”
Caro’s eyes became saucers, and she flung herself in front of Francis. “We’ll talk, truly we will, Sir Brand!” she cried, then turned imploring tear-filled eyes upon Francis. “Please, my dearest love, for I cannot bear to be without you!” she begged, her voice catching because she was trying so hard not to cry.
Perhaps it was the heartbreak in her voice, the perfume of her hair, or just the unhappy trembling of her body against his, whatever it was, the hardness in his heart softened and suddenly he pulled her close.
“Oh, Caro, my darling, my darling,” he whispered, and she sank into his embrace as he kissed her.
Brand replaced the pistol in his coat, then smiled at Summer. “Checkmate,” he murmured.
“Oh, I pray so,” she whispered.
He pulled her out of the chapel into the sunshine, where he took her face in his hands and brushed his lips softly to hers. “I think we may permit ourselves to be well pleased, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, and I think your explanation was masterly, sir.”
“Masterly? It was a shameful distortion, the truth honed to a shadow of its former self. Perhaps it’s a little unfair to heap the blame entirely upon Bradshaw, but the fellow has escaped his debts, though not my revenge if I ever come upon him,” he murmured wryly. “My only regret now is that Fenwick has also escaped, for if anyone deserves to suffer the consequences of his actions, he does.”
Summer nodded. “Yes, he does, but perhaps it’s as well he’s gone, because the last thing I want is for your anger to get the better of you should you confront him.”
He was about to respond, when something caught his attention along the embankment toward the fox covert. “What in God’s name ... ?” he breathed.
She turned and saw Melinda riding toward them, accompanied at a discreet distance by one of the Bevincote footmen. She wore a sapphire blue riding habit and a little beaver hat, and long honey-colored ringlets bounced on her shoulders as she urged her roan mare into a canter.
As soon as she reached them, Brand seized her horse’s bridle. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Melinda smiled. “Lord Lytherby has permitted me to come out because I’m no longer in disgrace. I’ve been following you and Francis and lost you for a while in the covert, but then saw as you halted by the chapel. It was most enlightening to see how brutish you can be, Brand. I felt quite sorry for poor Francis when you manhandled him like that.” She reached down, and he caught her as she slid from the saddle.
Brand looked into her lilac eyes. “You had no business following us, miss.”
“I’m quite safe,” she replied, indicating the burly footman.
“Besides, I had every business in the world.” She turned brightly to Summer. “Hello, Olivia.”
“Hello,” Summer replied, thinking how good it was to see Brand’s sister smiling so happily.
Melinda glanced toward the chapel. “I waited in the covert until you two came out and I could be sure Francis and Miss Merriam must be making up. They are making up, aren’t they?” she added quickly.
“At the last glance, yes,” Brand replied, eyeing her. “You have a conspiratorial look about you, miss.”
“Do I? Perhaps that’s because I’ve been up to no good again.”
His face changed. “You’ve what?”
She laughed. “Oh, how easily you rise to the bait.”
Summer had to hide a slight smile, for Melinda clearly knew exactly how to tease him.
Brand raised an eyebrow. “You’re a minx, Miss Huntingford.”
“Maybe, but I’m here with some news that I’m sure will please everyone here as much as it has already pleased Lord Lytherby.”
“Oh?” Brand’s reply was guarded.
“Before I tell you, there is a condition.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I am to have my first London Season this summer, and Lord Lytherby wished to foist me upon some odious dowager or other, but I want Olivia to chaperone me.”
Summer was startled. “Me? But—”
“You must agree, Olivia, or I will withdraw my promises to Lord Lytherby,” Melinda warned.
“But I haven’t a say in the matter of your Season, Melinda. Lord Lytherby is—”
“Lord Lytherby has already given his permission; in fact he was delighted to do so,” Melinda interrupted.
“Delighted?” Summer repeated in astonishment.
Brand was baffled too. “Melinda, exactly what is all this about?”
Melinda looked at Olivia. “Will you chaperone me this summer?” she pressed.
“Well, yes, of course, if it really is in order with everyone else ...” Summer glanced at Brand.
He shrugged and nodded. “I have no objections; indeed it would please me immeasurably, for it would give me every excuse in the world to call upon you—and keep an eye on you,” he added, fixing his sister with a look.
Melinda smiled. “Keep as many eyes upon me as you wish, sir. Very well, my plan is all as good as settled.” She breathed in, clearly very pleased with herself. “Brand, I am going to give Lord Lytherby the money he needs to save Bevincote.”
He stared at her. “You’re what?” he said faintly.
“I can more than afford it, as you well know.”
“Possibly, but what I don’t know is how you have become party to financial problems that were being kept from Francis.”
“I listened at the door when you and his lordship were talking.”
“Did you, be damned!”
“I’m afraid so. Anyway, I’m not doing this for Lord Lytherby, but for Francis and Miss Merriam. I still feel bad about how I behaved, and this is my way of making it up to them. Francis loves Bevincote as much as his father does, and it isn’t fair that he shouldn’t inherit it one day.” Melinda looked at Summer suddenly. “When I told you at the ball that I loved Bevincote, I really meant it, Olivia. This way it stays in the family where it belongs.”
Brand sighed. “Melinda, do you really understand how much money may be at stake here?”
She nodded airily. “Oh, yes. When you and Francis were playing billiards late last night, Lord Lytherby and I went over all his accounts.” She smiled. “I’m not always a silly creature, Brand, and although I made a horrid mistake with Jeremy Fenwick, I’m not making a mistake now. So, you see, all is going to be well in the end.”
“Well, it would seem you’ve considered every aspect.”
“Oh, I have.” Melinda’s smile became feline. “And when I go to London, with Olivia’s help I intend to snap up the Duke of Chandworth.”
Summer’s lips parted. “With my help?” she said warily.
“Well, you’ve snapped up my brother, who is much more difficult than the duke, so I’m sure your advice will be all that’s necessary.”
Brand gave an incredulous laugh. “You saucy baggage!”
Melinda smiled.
He sighed. “So you intend to snap up Chandworth, do you? It may interest you to know that half the women in London have been endeavoring to do the same for the past four years, ever since he showed his handsome hide in town, in fact.”
“I will have him from under their noses,” Melinda replied confidently.
Brand rolled his eyes heavenward. “Ye gods, how mercurial is the female of the species. One moment in an agony of despair over a ne’er-do-well like Fenwick, the next setting her scheming cap for a peer of the realm!”
“No more mercurial than the male,” Melinda said immediately. “Take you, for example. Only a few days ago you’d never even heard of Olivia; now you are quite clearly head over heels in love with her.”
Brand turned to Summer and smiled into her eyes. “Yes, I am,”
he said softly.
Chapter Twenty-six
The chapel was deserted the next day when Summer returned alone. A thaw had commenced overnight, and the air was noticeably milder as she dismounted and made the reins fast to the ivy. As she looked back toward Oakhill House, and Bevincote beyond, she could see how the snow was melting, for although in the hollows it was still dense and white, on more open areas the grass and undergrowth was beginning to peep through.
To say she felt a hint of spring in the air was perhaps going a little far, but there was a definite change. The sunlight was different too, seeming softer and more benevolent than it had only the day before. She smiled to herself, for such thoughts were clearly fanciful—the change came from within herself.
She was now certain that she was Olivia forever, for too much time had elapsed for there to be any chance of her returning to the future to become Summer Stanway once more. It was an awe-inspiring thought. Andrew had always insisted that there wasn’t any actual traveling in time, just a certain type of hypnotic trance that aroused deep-seated memories of past existences.
Well, if this was just a memory, how could she possibly be feeling it all so fully? The smell of the sea was real, as was the taste of salt on her lips and the flutter of her veil against her face, and when she was with Brand, the passion and love transcended everything.
The fact was now irrefutable. She had achieved the impossible and traveled permanently through time to a past life where she could enjoy again the health and happiness her future self had lost. All that remained was to try to let Chrissie and Andrew know about that health and happiness.
From the saddlebag she took out the small hammer and chisel she had brought with her from the gardeners’ storeroom at Oakhill House, then she gathered the rose woolen skirt of her riding habit and made her way around to the front of the chapel. She paused, raising her veil over her hat to look more clearly at the estuary. How wide and open it was here; just to look at it today made her want to fill her lungs with the sea-fresh air.
As she went into the chapel, she listened for a moment in the hope of again hearing Stephen’s whisper to Susannah, but although this time there was only silence, she could still sense the words buried deep in the ruins. Could a message of her own be trapped in the stone as well? She would never know, but maybe Chrissie and Andrew would when they came here in the future.
“Chrissie, it’s me, Summer, I really am here in the past, and I’m happy,” she whispered, and then smiled as it seemed the chapel absorbed her voice.
Raising the hammer and chisel, she began to chip “Chrissie and Summer” into the stone, just beneath Stephen and Susannah’s initials and date.
It took a long time, especially the letters with curves, but at last she finished and stood back to admire her rough but legible work. Not bad, she thought. Maybe not stonemason quality, but not bad. Her three words would still be here when Chrissie and Andrew came, as come they would, she had no doubt of that.
A shadow suddenly darkened the doorway, and a sinister male voice spoke coolly to her. “Ill met by sunlight, proud Olivia.”
Jeremy! She gasped, and the hammer and chisel fell with a loud clatter as she whirled about to see him standing there.
He wore the same clothes he’d had on the last time she saw him and hadn’t shaved for a day or so. “I’ve been waiting to get you alone, and when I saw your horse, I could not believe my good fortune.” There was no trace now of his former easy charm as his glance moved slowly over her and then to the message she’d carved. Curiosity lightened his eyes. “What’s this?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Oh, come now, Olivia, you’ve clearly spent some time laboring over it.”
“It’s nothing, truly. What do you want of me, Jeremy?”
His eyes darkened again as they returned to her face. “You betrayed me, Olivia, and now I’ve come for my revenge.”
She stared at him. “Betrayed you?” she whispered.
“By setting Huntingford on my trail.”
“I didn’t; it was the innkeeper who sent word to Bevincote.”
“Oh, that’s as may be, but the chase was on well before then. I left Melinda and the carriage at a livery stable on the Bristol road and hired a horse to ride back to see if anything was afoot. I saw the alarm being raised and the search commenced. You gave the game away, didn’t you? And you did it because you suddenly realized why I wanted your carriage.”
She pressed back against the chapel wall and didn’t reply.
He gave a thin smile and came a little closer, putting a hand almost tenderly to her throat. “After all I did for you when Roderick died, you’ve been a Judas to me, Olivia.”
She was terrified. Her heart was thundering, her mouth was dry, and the sunlight outside seemed a million miles away, but defiance shone in her scornful eyes.
“And what of you, Jeremy? You’ve resorted to lying, stealing, highway robbery, and even attempted to force an innocent young woman to submit to your vile advances! Those are the acts of a criminal, not the man I once liked and respected.”
His fingers moved sensuously against her skin. “I couldn’t care less whether you like and respect me, my lovely, for it’s retribution time. I’ve always had an itch to sample your charms, and now see no reason why I should not enjoy them to the full.”
He began to put his lips to her unwilling mouth, but as she tried to wrench free, to her unutterable relief she heard Brand’s voice a few feet away.
‘Take your foul hands off her, Fenwick, or so help me I’ll squeeze this trigger!”
Jeremy froze, then released her and began to move away. As he did so, she saw Brand right behind him. He wore a sky blue coat and cream corduroy breeches, and his untidy golden hair moved slightly in the draft from outside. He’d edged sideways through the doorway in order not to cast a warning shadow, and now had his pistol pressed to the back of Jeremy’s head.
Brand jabbed the weapon a little. “Faster, you mongrel, for I’m looking for a justifiable excuse to exterminate you. Get away from her!”
Jeremy’s tongue passed nervously over his lips. “I didn’t mean her any harm, Huntingford!”
“You meant her every harm, just as you meant my sister harm,” Brand said softly.
“No! I swear it! Don’t shoot me, I beg of you!” Jeremy sank to his knees in terror.
“What a contemptible coward you are,” Brand breathed witheringly. “Well, much as I’d like to do the honors, I have to bow to the rule of law. Now, get up and come outside.”
Slowly, Jeremy obeyed, moving step by step through the doorway into the sunshine, with Brand’s pistol still pressed to his head. Then Brand glanced along the embankment and waved an arm.
Summer heard hoofbeats and ventured to look out. She saw a detachment of red-uniformed soldiers riding toward the chapel. Brand kept Jeremy in his sights until Jeremy’s hands were tied behind his back and he was bundled unceremoniously onto his horse to be taken back to Cirencester to face a court-martial.
As the small column of soldiers rode away, Brand took Summer’s hand. “Are you all right, my darling?”
She held him tightly. “I was terrified.”
“I came as soon as I realized your horse was here. Fenwick had been seen in Berkeley yesterday, and I notified the barracks in Cirencester. We’d just begun to investigate a report that someone answering his description had been sighted in the fox covert, when some sixth sense told me you were in danger here.” He cupped her face in his hands. “If he’d harmed so much as a hair of your head ...”
“He didn’t, you came in time,” she whispered, shivering as much from shock as the cold estuary air.
Brand drew her back into the chapel, where he pulled her close. He didn’t see the tools she’d dropped earlier, the fragments of freshly chipped stone, or the words she’d carved. “I could not have endured if anything had happened to you,” he said softly.
“I’m safe, my darling, I’m safe,” she answered.
He drew back slightly, reaching up to remove her hat, and let it fall to the floor. Then he took out some of her hairpins, so that her thick black curls cascaded over her shoulders. “I intended to come to you today anyway, for I have come to realize that I want you with me all the time. I cannot bear to be apart from you, not even for an hour.”
“I feel the same. Each moment away from you is torture.”
“There is only one solution, and it’s what I intended to ask when I called upon you.” His eyes were dark as they looked down into hers. “Marry me, Olivia.”
Her heart turned over, and she stared up at him. “Do ... do you really mean that, Brand?”
“Can you doubt it for a moment? Can you doubt that the love and passion we share can be honored any other way? I don’t want you for my mistress, I want you for my wife.” He took her left hand and drew the fourth finger to his lips.
Happy tears shone in her eyes. “Nothing would make me more happy than to many you, Brand,” she whispered.
His arm slid around her waist, and he pulled her against him. “The new Lady Huntingford will be the most desirable woman of ton in London.”
“She will want to be desired only by her husband, sir,” Summer replied.
“Oh, he will desire her, she may be certain of that. Desire fills him right now.” He pressed his hips closer so that she could feel the swelling at his loins.
‘Then let your bride be your mistress for a little longer,” she murmured, closing her eyes as little waves of pleasure washed excitingly through her.
“Where is your shame, Mrs. Courtenay?”
She moved against him. “I have none, Sir Brand.”
“Then let us be shameless together,” he breathed, beginning to undo the buttons of her jacket.
* * *
The October afternoon was drawing in as the car pulled up at the foot of the embankment. Chrissie and Andrew got out, and Chrissie looked around a little uncertainly. “Are you sure this is the place?”
“According to the map,” he replied, waving the crumpled copy of Ordnance Survey, Outdoor Leisure Number Fourteen. “The End of the World. Aptly named, eh?”